Fellow Fantasy author and blogger Assaph Mehr has a website solely dedicated to character interviews! Very Cool, right?! The Protagonist Speaks is dedicated to the characters living inside the books we love. Each week they aim to publish an interview with a protagonist from a novel they believe in. Yep, you read that right. The protagonist – or antagonist! – from the book. Not the author. Not the reviewer. The character. They aim to put the characters in the limelight – to be heard, to be felt. …Which is a notion I believe in as well, since I also do Character Spotlights.

So when Assaph said he’d enjoy talking with Gairynzvl, the lead of my Epic YA Fantasy Dark Fey Trilogy, I couldn’t refuse. Gairynzvl could, of course. One never knows when it comes to unpredictable malefey, but fortunately he was in a talkative mood. Below you will find the conversation, and the link to the full interview on Assaph’s site.

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Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

My life has been dichotic. I spent my first seven years in the village Hwyndarin with my family and the Fey of the Light. It is a place of simple beauty and communal living, where each villager shares life’s responsibilities and burdens. I was very young, but remember playing with friends and learning to fly amid the forests, streams and meadows bathed in sunlight.

When I reached 7 ½, I was abducted by the Reviled Fey and spent the next 15 years of my life trying to survive the gloom and shadows of their dark realm, the Uunglarda. No sunlight warms their barren dominion and the skies are choked with soot and poisonous fumes. I suffered the Integration; five years of neglect designed to turn childfey into monsters and each day was a torment of hunger, thirst, cold, and abuse.

Gosh, that sounds horrible. How did you manage to hold onto hope? Was is a cherished memory, a favourite toy you clung to, a friend?

We had no toys in the Uunglarda, and very few friends, but I was determined not to forget the ones I had and to see them again. I kept the Light alive any way I could, mostly by repeated prophecies I had already learned and secretly studying others. Although I had to keep it completely hidden, which was not easy in a place where you are forced to do horrible things every day, as time went on, I formed a few secret alliances with Dark Ones who wanted to escape as much as I did and our mutual dream of freedom kept hope alive.

What do you do now?

Even though I have returned to the Light and live in Hwyndarin once again, I spend much of my time training with an exclusive unit of Fey Guards dedicated to the covert operation of returning into the Uunglarda at undisclosed times to rescue younglings and those Dark Fey who wish to escape.

That’s very heroic, but also dangerous, isn’t it? Have you always been driven to risk so much for others?

It is unquestionably dangerous, but also a self-rewarding sacrifice and one I am very willing to make, especially when I can see childfey restored to their families or those who will love and care for them. I would never call myself heroic, though I might agree with driven. Some of my friends describe me as tenacious and the Reviled thought me infuriatingly stubborn, (well, some of my friends say that too!) I simply choose to believe that positive action creates positive results and this conviction has proven true. Consequently, I am motivated to do more because it is so satisfying.

When you first decided to take such risks to help yourself and others, did you think you would succeed?

Honestly, no, but it was all I had; it was the only thing that kept me from being consumed by darkness. When I doubted, I forced myself to read and re-read the ancient texts, searching for anything that might help. When I met others who were doing what I was, it became easier to believe we would achieve our goal, but it was only when I first saw Ayla, the Fey of the Light Child Guardian who helped me when no one else would, that I knew with certainty I would stand in the Light once more.

Reaching out to her was extremely risky, wasn’t it? What was the most frightening thing about risking so much?

I risked everything and, believe me, it was terrifying. I lived in fear for months. If the Reviled had found out or caught me, I would have faced unbearable torture as a traitor. If Ayla had chosen not to listen to me and help, my only chance of escape would have failed, and if she had told others about the dark one who was following her for months trying to communicate with her from the shadows, I could have been captured and thrown into the Prison of Daylight; executed by the same Light I sought to return to.

Fey of the Light are taught from a very young age to fear the Reviled. As one of them, what was the hardest thing you had to do to convince her she could trust you?

The night I chose to confront her was stormy and the darkness aided my crossing, but I knew coming face to face with a Dark Fey, alone, would frighten her immeasurably. So, I had taught myself a spell that would protect her from the Legion I was forced to traveled with by casting a brilliant light, which would block them from crossing over to harm her and give me time to convince her I was no threat. It was difficult not only because I had no desire to scare her, but the light I used to protect her, at the time, was lethal to me. If she had not chosen to act and help me, it would have killed me.

Risking so much was certainly difficult; so, what was the best part of that night?

Ayla used her very special gifts to help me escape the torrent of light I had created. She covered me with her body; extended her strength to bolster my own and physically dragged me into the darkness of the parlor before it was too late. I remember standing there in the shadows trying to catch my breath as the sensation of burning I had been suffering subsided. She lay on the floor at my feet, utterly exhausted and overwhelmed; yet she did not try to run from me. In fact, she reached up to touch my hand, as if making sure I was all right. It was an extremely intense moment. For 15 years, no one had done anything for me; yet, although she was frightened, overcome, and wracked by physical and emotional pain that was not her own (because she had connected with mine), she did not retreat from me, but chose to draw closer.

That was and still is the most indescribable feeling I have ever experienced.

Are you still close to Ayla?

Yes, I am.

What does the future hold for the two of you?

She is my Beloved One, but this is all I will say.

Some things are too personal to talk about?

Something like that.

(smiling) I understand, but before we end our conversation, can you share a secret with us, which you’ve never told anyone else?

Hmmm? Sure, I know something, a very old prophecy, that can change the world for all Fey……

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I would like to thank Assaph for this marvelous opportunity. It was a pleasure learning more about Gairynzvl, even for me, who wrote him. Please be sure to visit The Protagonist Speaksto read more fantastic character interviews (or to set one up for your own character!)

Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

My life has been dichotic. I spent my first seven years in the village Hwyndarin with my family and the Fey of the Light. It is a place of simple beauty and communal living, where each villager shares life’s responsibilities and burdens. I was very young, but remember playing with friends and learning to fly amid the forests, streams and meadows bathed in sunlight.

When I reached 7 ½, I was abducted by the Reviled Fey and spent the next 15 years of my life trying to survive the gloom and shadows of their dark realm, the Uunglarda. No sunlight warms their barren dominion and the skies are choked with soot and poisonous fumes. I suffered the Integration; five years of neglect designed to turn childfey into monsters and each day was a torment of hunger, thirst, cold, and abuse.

Gosh, that sounds horrible. How did you manage to hold onto hope? Was is a cherished memory, a favourite toy you clung to, a friend?

We had no toys in the Uunglarda, and very few friends, but I was determined not to forget the ones I had and to see them again. I kept the Light alive any way I could, mostly by repeated prophecies I had already learned and secretly studying others. Although I had to keep it completely hidden, which was not easy in a place where you are forced to do horrible things every day, as time went on, I formed a few secret alliances with Dark Ones who wanted to escape as much as I did and our mutual dream of freedom kept hope alive.

What do you do now?

Even though I have returned to the Light and live in Hwyndarin once again, I spend much of my time training with an exclusive unit of Fey Guards dedicated to the covert operation of returning into the Uunglarda at undisclosed times to rescue younglings and those Dark Fey who wish to escape.

That’s very heroic, but also dangerous, isn’t it? Have you always been driven to risk so much for others?

It is unquestionably dangerous, but also a self-rewarding sacrifice and one I am very willing to make, especially when I can see childfey restored to their families or those who will love and care for them. I would never call myself heroic, though I might agree with driven. Some of my friends describe me as tenacious and the Reviled thought me infuriatingly stubborn, (well, some of my friends say that too!) I simply choose to believe that positive action creates positive results and this conviction has proven true. Consequently, I am motivated to do more because it is so satisfying.

When you first decided to take such risks to help yourself and others, did you think you would succeed?

Honestly, no, but it was all I had; it was the only thing that kept me from being consumed by darkness. When I doubted, I forced myself to read and re-read the ancient texts, searching for anything that might help. When I met others who were doing what I was, it became easier to believe we would achieve our goal, but it was only when I first saw Ayla, the Fey of the Light Child Guardian who helped me when no one else would, that I knew with certainty I would stand in the Light once more.

Reaching out to her was extremely risky, wasn’t it? What was the most frightening thing about risking so much?

I risked everything and, believe me, it was terrifying. I lived in fear for months. If the Reviled had found out or caught me, I would have faced unbearable torture as a traitor. If Ayla had chosen not to listen to me and help, my only chance of escape would have failed, and if she had told others about the dark one who was following her for months trying to communicate with her from the shadows, I could have been captured and thrown into the Prison of Daylight; executed by the same Light I sought to return to.

Fey of the Light are taught from a very young age to fear the Reviled. As one of them, what was the hardest thing you had to do to convince her she could trust you?

The night I chose to confront her was stormy and the darkness aided my crossing, but I knew coming face to face with a Dark Fey, alone, would frighten her immeasurably. So, I had taught myself a spell that would protect her from the Legion I was forced to traveled with by casting a brilliant light, which would block them from crossing over to harm her and give me time to convince her I was no threat. It was difficult not only because I had no desire to scare her, but the light I used to protect her, at the time, was lethal to me. If she had not chosen to act and help me, it would have killed me.

Risking so much was certainly difficult; so, what was the best part of that night?

Ayla used her very special gifts to help me escape the torrent of light I had created. She covered me with her body; extended her strength to bolster my own and physically dragged me into the darkness of the parlor before it was too late. I remember standing there in the shadows trying to catch my breath as the sensation of burning I had been suffering subsided. She lay on the floor at my feet, utterly exhausted and overwhelmed; yet she did not try to run from me. In fact, she reached up to touch my hand, as if making sure I was all right. It was an extremely intense moment. For 15 years, no one had done anything for me; yet, although she was frightened, overcome, and wracked by physical and emotional pain that was not her own (because she had connected with mine), she did not retreat from me, but chose to draw closer.

That was and still is the most indescribable feeling I have ever experienced.

Are you still close to Ayla?

Yes, I am.

What does the future hold for the two of you?

She is my Beloved One, but this is all I will say.

Some things are too personal to talk about?

Something like that.

(smiling) I understand, but before we end our conversation, can you share a secret with us, which you’ve never told anyone else?

Hmmm? Sure, I know something, a very old prophecy, that can change the world for all Fey……

A Fellow author recently interviewed Me about one of my lesser known characters from Dark Fey, so I chose to share the Character spotlight in its entirety today. I hope you will enjoy learning about The Healer, who becomes one of the main characters throughout the pages of book two, Standing In Shadows.

Tell me a bit about your character. Who are they, how old are they? What do they look like? His name is Evondair and he comes into the story in Dark Fey: Standing In Shadows. He is a youthful Healer just beginning his dedicated years of practice round about the age of 25, though I never do specify. He is an average height for a malefey, standing 5’10”, and has a trim, powerful physique. The golden-blond waves of his shoulder length hair accentuate the deep viridian of his eyes and his expansive white wings. He is beautifully handsome, but far from arrogant about it.

Do they have any strange or unique physical traits? Most Fey are either telepathic, empathic or have a gift of discernment and Evondair’s gift of discernment is exceptional. He is able to understand another as completely as they know themselves and can usually tell truth from lies with relative ease. Although he has no gift of magic, as some Fey do, he is also a skilled Healer of innate ability.

Does the character have any quirks? In spite of his harmonious nature, he has an impishly mischievous side, as well as an unpredictably short temper, particularly for a Healer.

Where do they live? What’s it like there? Evondair resides within the Temple Complex of Hwyndarin in simple quarters, but the Temple is the center of all learning and contemplation for the village, filled with lush gardens, tranquil devotionaries, vast libraries, and the Healing Wards where he studied and practices. Peopled by artisans, scholars, Celebrants, and the Triune Elders, it is by far the most luxurious and beneficial place to live on the entire continent.

What is their role in the story? Are they the protagonist/antagonist, a supporting character? Evondair stepped into the story of Standing In Shadows quietly, as his nature would dictate, but he has become a central, supporting character with a clear purpose. His harmonious inclination leads him to make a choice that will ultimately guide many others; changing the entire relationship between the Fey of the Light and the Dark Fey forever. (no spoilers here! 🙂 )

What do they do for a living? Evondair is a Healer, which is very much the same as a doctor, although the Fey of the Light practice holistic medicine, herbalism, and magic, for those who have such gifts. Although he is a practicing Healer, Evondair is also a voracious reader and is seldom found not studying to increase his knowledge of the healing arts.

What do they do for fun? Like many malefey, Evondair enjoys playing Vladokhyssum, a sport similar to Rugby and Kill the Carrier, though the entire match takes place on the wing. It is a comparatively violent sport in which one team member tries to score, being defended by only his three teammates, while twelve others attempt to stop him by (nearly) any means possible.

What is their greatest weakness, their greatest strength? Compassion for others and the confidence to do what he knows is right lies at the heart of Evondair’s nature, but his swift temper often leads him astray.

What is the best that ever happened to them? The worst? The best thing to ever happen to Evondair comes in book three, Breaking Into The Light, when he meets Kaylyya, his true mate. I cannot tell you the worst thing, as it would be too great a spoiler for book three.

What do they want from life? What are their goals? As a Healer, Evondair longs for harmony and a calm, quiet life, not only for himself, but for all. Although he is young, it does not take him long to understand that the only way to achieve the Peace he longs for is by becoming Peace.

Can you share a snippet from the book to give us a taste of Evondair’s character?

…..“The Reviled are tracking us; they are within the cavern and closing in. We cannot delay!” At hearing his warning, the golden-haired Fey glanced over his shoulder with noticeable trepidation, leaning closer to gather Gairynzvl more securely in his arms. With the Healer’s strong supportive embrace he finally found his feet, although he stood for a moment, collecting his senses. Before he could stagger onward, Evondair bid him to wait while he rummaged through the pack he carried between his nebulous wings, seeking his allotment of Quiroth, which he had not yet utilized.

“Drink this.” Handing the small bottle forward to Gairynzvl, who stood staring blankly into the distance in a muddled haze, he placed the bottle in his hand, waited; then physically lifted it to his mouth.

“It will strengthen you. Drink!” Again the Healer spoke with a surprisingly forceful tone and Gairynzvl shook himself at last, grasped the bottle more firmly and tilted it hastily over his lips. He remembered the foul tang of the amber liquid from the last time he had been required to drink it and his reaction to the strong, earthy flavor and pungent aroma was the same. Turning his head abruptly, he could not force himself to not spit it out; groaning in disgust and shuddering with revulsion at its taste, but the Healer would not be eluded so easily. Leaning close another time, he spoke with an unmistakably threatening tone.

“It is good that the darkness is blinding; if Mardan could see, he would be only too happy to restrain you while I force you to drink.” Twisting to gaze backward at the Healer with astonishment, Gairynzvl scoffed, then shook his head when he neither moved away nor said anything further, demonstrating his intractable intentions through the silence of his piercing viridian stare alone. Raising the bottle to his mouth begrudgingly, Gairynzvl frowned ferociously at it, tilted his head back and drank its contents in one draught, hissing with loathing at the empty container before he handed it abruptly back to Evondair.

The Epic YA Fantasy Trilogy Dark Fey is set in the fantastical realm of Jyndari, a world of beauty, magic, Bright Light and Devouring Darkness. It relates a story about the Life-changing Strength of Hope, the Value of Acceptance, and the world-changing Power of Forgiveness through a tale that is brutally beautiful.

Fellow Fantasy author and blogger Assaph Mehr has a website solely dedicated to character interviews! Very Cool, right?! The Protagonist Speaks is dedicated to the characters living inside the books we love. Each week they aim to publish an interview with a protagonist from a novel they believe in. Yep, you read that right. The protagonist – or antagonist! – from the book. Not the author. Not the reviewer. The character. They aim to put the characters in the limelight – to be heard, to be felt. …Which is a notion I believe in as well, since I also do Character Spotlights.

So when Assaph said he’d enjoy talking with Gairynzvl, the lead of my Epic YA Fantasy Dark Fey Trilogy, I couldn’t refuse. Gairynzvl could, of course. One never knows when it comes to unpredictable malefey, but fortunately he was in a talkative mood. Below you will find the conversation, and the link to the full interview on Assaph’s site.

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Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

My life has been dichotic. I spent my first seven years in the village Hwyndarin with my family and the Fey of the Light. It is a place of simple beauty and communal living, where each villager shares life’s responsibilities and burdens. I was very young, but remember playing with friends and learning to fly amid the forests, streams and meadows bathed in sunlight.

When I reached 7 ½, I was abducted by the Reviled Fey and spent the next 15 years of my life trying to survive the gloom and shadows of their dark realm, the Uunglarda. No sunlight warms their barren dominion and the skies are choked with soot and poisonous fumes. I suffered the Integration; five years of neglect designed to turn childfey into monsters and each day was a torment of hunger, thirst, cold, and abuse.

Gosh, that sounds horrible. How did you manage to hold onto hope? Was is a cherished memory, a favourite toy you clung to, a friend?

We had no toys in the Uunglarda, and very few friends, but I was determined not to forget the ones I had and to see them again. I kept the Light alive any way I could, mostly by repeated prophecies I had already learned and secretly studying others. Although I had to keep it completely hidden, which was not easy in a place where you are forced to do horrible things every day, as time went on, I formed a few secret alliances with Dark Ones who wanted to escape as much as I did and our mutual dream of freedom kept hope alive.

What do you do now?

Even though I have returned to the Light and live in Hwyndarin once again, I spend much of my time training with an exclusive unit of Fey Guards dedicated to the covert operation of returning into the Uunglarda at undisclosed times to rescue younglings and those Dark Fey who wish to escape.

That’s very heroic, but also dangerous, isn’t it? Have you always been driven to risk so much for others?

It is unquestionably dangerous, but also a self-rewarding sacrifice and one I am very willing to make, especially when I can see childfey restored to their families or those who will love and care for them. I would never call myself heroic, though I might agree with driven. Some of my friends describe me as tenacious and the Reviled thought me infuriatingly stubborn, (well, some of my friends say that too!) I simply choose to believe that positive action creates positive results and this conviction has proven true. Consequently, I am motivated to do more because it is so satisfying.

When you first decided to take such risks to help yourself and others, did you think you would succeed?

Honestly, no, but it was all I had; it was the only thing that kept me from being consumed by darkness. When I doubted, I forced myself to read and re-read the ancient texts, searching for anything that might help. When I met others who were doing what I was, it became easier to believe we would achieve our goal, but it was only when I first saw Ayla, the Fey of the Light Child Guardian who helped me when no one else would, that I knew with certainty I would stand in the Light once more.

Reaching out to her was extremely risky, wasn’t it? What was the most frightening thing about risking so much?

I risked everything and, believe me, it was terrifying. I lived in fear for months. If the Reviled had found out or caught me, I would have faced unbearable torture as a traitor. If Ayla had chosen not to listen to me and help, my only chance of escape would have failed, and if she had told others about the dark one who was following her for months trying to communicate with her from the shadows, I could have been captured and thrown into the Prison of Daylight; executed by the same Light I sought to return to.

Fey of the Light are taught from a very young age to fear the Reviled. As one of them, what was the hardest thing you had to do to convince her she could trust you?

The night I chose to confront her was stormy and the darkness aided my crossing, but I knew coming face to face with a Dark Fey, alone, would frighten her immeasurably. So, I had taught myself a spell that would protect her from the Legion I was forced to traveled with by casting a brilliant light, which would block them from crossing over to harm her and give me time to convince her I was no threat. It was difficult not only because I had no desire to scare her, but the light I used to protect her, at the time, was lethal to me. If she had not chosen to act and help me, it would have killed me.

Risking so much was certainly difficult; so, what was the best part of that night?

Ayla used her very special gifts to help me escape the torrent of light I had created. She covered me with her body; extended her strength to bolster my own and physically dragged me into the darkness of the parlor before it was too late. I remember standing there in the shadows trying to catch my breath as the sensation of burning I had been suffering subsided. She lay on the floor at my feet, utterly exhausted and overwhelmed; yet she did not try to run from me. In fact, she reached up to touch my hand, as if making sure I was all right. It was an extremely intense moment. For 15 years, no one had done anything for me; yet, although she was frightened, overcome, and wracked by physical and emotional pain that was not her own (because she had connected with mine), she did not retreat from me, but chose to draw closer.

That was and still is the most indescribable feeling I have ever experienced.

Are you still close to Ayla?

Yes, I am.

What does the future hold for the two of you?

She is my Beloved One, but this is all I will say.

Some things are too personal to talk about?

Something like that.

(smiling) I understand, but before we end our conversation, can you share a secret with us, which you’ve never told anyone else?

Hmmm? Sure, I know something, a very old prophecy, that can change the world for all Fey……

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I would like to thank Assaph for this marvelous opportunity. It was a pleasure learning more about Gairynzvl, even for me, who wrote him. Please be sure to visit The Protagonist Speaksto read more fantastic character interviews (or to set one up for your own character!)

This is a repost of the Character Spotlight Author Roari Benjamin did for Richard Ankers on his marvelous character JEAN in his Vampire/Dystopian Trilogy – The Eternals. Posted here in its entirety for your reading pleasure.

In this Character Spotlight, I’m excited to introduce you to another wonderful, fellow author, Richard M. Ankers, and his new series, The Eternals. He’s taking over the stage to shine the Spotlight on Jean – the last Eternal Lord – and to give us a glimpse of a future where vampires have evolved, and outlasted humankind. However, they are bound to a dying world, so, it seems even eternity has an end. Unless someone does something. Soon. But, who among these Eternals, waltzing their way into oblivion, might take action?

Let me just put on a little Strauss to set the mood…. There, that’s better. Now, without futher ado, Richard, the spotlight is yours!*****An Introduction to Jean – the last Eternal Lord – from Author Richard M. Ankers

Jean is the lead character and main protagonist in the first book of The Eternals trilogy. The Eternals are an ancient race evolved, at least in their opinion, from the vampires of old. They live at the end of time where humanity are extinct, their sun is soon to die, and them along with it. Most dispute or ignore this salient detail. They would waltz into a decadent death instead of fighting to prevent it.

Jean is an orphan and the last born Eternal. Since the suicides of his parents and their ridiculing by The Hierarchy, the planet’s elite, he has grown increasingly melancholy. Jean hates everything and everyone except for the new love of his life, Princess Linka. If only he’d not gone and killed her sister! Aided and abetted by his incompetent friend-cum-nemesis, Sir Walter Merryweather of Britannia, he deems it is time to do what nobody else will: something.

In sashaying majesty, she led me out onto the moonlit balcony, a slight breeze stirring the purple silks of her gowns and tousling those flowing, raven locks. Neither the orchestra, nor revellers, noticed our absence, all far too absorbed with their petty pleasures.

Scattered geranium bushes emitted a faint pomade into the night in wafts of delicious perfume. The fragrance circulated in the evening’s air currents mixing with Chantelle’s own exquisite scents. She was everything a man could have desired, perfection personified.

“Come here.” I pulled her close, uncaring of prying eyes. I cared for nothing else, so why should that have mattered.

If I could have remembered what happiness felt like, then that moment would have come close, her demure eyelash batting only adding to the allure.

“Beautiful, is it not, Jean?”

“Not as beautiful as you,” I said and leaned out over the balustrade. The red waters of the Danube looped their turgid way around the palace perimeter forming a natural barrier to uninvited guests. That was the exact purpose of their design. Nature had never had a say in it.

“Shall we?” Chantelle purred, as the reinvigorated orchestra drew my attention back from the river. There was only one kind of music for such occasions: Strauss.

We waltzed in slow circles to the ironic notes of the Blue Danube. I doubted the composer would have generated the same response to his masterpiece if titled red. A searchlight moon shone down from amongst a twinkling eternity, as we twirled across the polished, ebony floor. Could there have been anything better? I very much doubted it. Just because one was dead did not preclude them from appreciating the finer things in life.

I’d been experiencing the best of life for the last five hundred or so years and unlike some, I’d enjoyed every second. What was there not to have liked? To have wined and dined with those of undeniable breeding, shared tailors with kings and queens, walked along gothic promenades without fear, that was the life, or death, I’d dreamed of. I’d never missed the sunlight and felt it terribly overrated. The sun had given such a false sense of wellbeing to the living. Only in the crystal clarity of a sparkling moon did the true reality of an object shine. The snake was not a slithering, ugly beast, but a sensual, seductive coil of a creature. The bat far outshone the bird for it required none of the adulation that the avian so craved. And the wolf, ah, the wolf, what could one say? To see the grey wolves of old backlit by a hunter’s moon was a thing of surreal majesty. In a world of sculpted pleasures; toned to compliment the night; crafted for exuberance, I had walked unhindered. Who was I trying to convince, I hated it all! How I envied the wolves their freedom the one thing I would never possess.

“Shall we remain out here under the stars, Monsieur?”

The beautiful French accent of my partner snapped me from my musings. “Tell me, Jean, what is your wish?”

“To be with you.”

“You can be with me anytime, but in this moment only once.”

“I can close my eyes and imagine this moment anytime I require.”

“That is not the same thing and you know it,” she berated. Another batting of those dark lashes caused a brief disturbance in her sparkling, amethyst eyes.

“No, probably not, but I shall still enjoy doing so.”

She tilted her head to one side as if it helped her think. “You know, Jean,” she whispered. “With your long, dark hair and those brooding, black eyes, you really are to die for.” Chantelle flicked her hair back and grinned, her elegant, porcelain neck beckoning.

It was a momentary thing, an uncontrollable urge, as I plunged dagger fangs into flesh, and sucked, and savoured, and drank.

How long I sated, I did not know, but it was too long. By the time I’d finished, the metallic tang of her blood saturated my tongue, and she was gone. I had taken her past the point of no return where Eternal lust and immortality merged. My lapse shattered the one sacrosanct law of Eternal life, the original sin, the forbidden link to a shameful past: I’d killed Princess Chantelle of The New Europa Alliance, sole daughter of King Rudolph and for the first time in an age, panicked!

As a rule, I was quite unflappable, after all, what was there to get in a flap about when you were already dead? But killing a princess certainly qualified. So, I kept on dancing, holding Chantelle close, and edged my way past the double doors to the balcony’s edge. Twisting our conjoined forms around, I surveyed the merriment within the ballroom: revellers swayed to the orchestration ignorant of all but themselves. A smirk escaped the confines of my lips. Once sure of our privacy, I leapt the rails with my burden. It was a drop of about thirty feet, nothing to such as I, and quickly made my way to the tree-lined riverbank. Clutching Chantelle tight, as a lover might, I again made certain of our solitude. Where my Eternal eyes could not see my senses, scent and hearing, took charge. They all confirmed that there was nobody present but me and my corpse. I waited for an opportune cloud to obscure the moon and then flung her departed form far into the claret waters. Chantelle’s limp form hit the surface with an undignified plop, and then slipped away in stages, her raven hair the last to depart as kelp in a wavering sea. I’d have liked to say I was sorry to see her go, but to be honest, I was at best indifferent.

Retracing my steps to beneath the balcony, I had a sudden epiphany: I could not go back the same way. People were bound to have seen us both step onto the balcony. No, another escape route was required.

Not wishing to be found outside alone, I spotted some sturdy looking climbing ivy and, in a reversal of parasitic behaviour, scaled it to the top of the palace. I felt no lethargy as I hauled myself up and over a particularly hideous gargoyle to the palace roof, Chantelle’s blood had quite reinvigorated me.

Having always enjoyed a spectacular view, I took a moment to savour my surroundings. It was incredible! Class told, and that most opulent of pleasure domes dripped with it. Positioned with a full view of both mountains and river, the Comte de Burgundy, a clever play on colour as he was certainly of no royal heritage, could keep his vampiric eye on all and sundry. Not that there was anyone to keep an eye on anymore, but I suspected him a tad insecure and it probably aided his sleep. I envied him his home though. If he’d built it for himself, I could neither remember, nor recall witnessing, but it showed him in a finer light than he warranted. I could not stand the little runt, otherwise.

I meandered across the inclined roof looking for somewhere to gain access to the main halls, when I realised, I’d been revealed.

Today I am proud to introduce you to Author J. Steven Young, who shares adventurous and imaginative observations on life across multiple genres, including children’s activity books, young adult and fantasy. His Hashtag Magic collection is quickly moving up the fantasy charts on Amazon and the third book in the series is now released.

Raised in the Chicago area, J. Steven witnessed his fair share of injustice growing up and always imagined how he could make life better for everyone if only he’d had magic or super powers. It took years for him to understand that he did have a gift. Though he traveled the globe in his youth, he still favors the lands of his imagination and wants nothing more than to share his visions with the world. He hopes his gift will allow readers to escape from reality, if only for a spell.

Following his education in technology, with a focus in writing and communication, he’s spent his career working in the tech and travel industries. It allows for some creativity, but it doesn’t compare to the freedom of creating new worlds and magical creatures.

A passionate home chef, J. Steven, can often be found in the kitchen with his agreeable husband, Tom, and their spunky little Siamese kitten, GusGus, who runs the house. When he isn’t working or writing, J. Steven is never more than a step or thought away from adventure. Whether spending time in his enchanted garden, conjuring up new recipes or spending time with family and friends, he’s always dreaming up new fiction based on over-the-top characterizations of the people he meets.

J. Steven is the author of over a dozen books and lives in Chicago, Illinois.

Today J. Steven is talking with his character, Fizzlewink, seen below.

Interviewer: Welcome Fizzlewink, Happy to have you here today. Why don’t you start by telling us a little about yourself?

Fizzlewink: I’m only doing this because I lost a bet with an old witch. I’m a little blue man who mentors young magic users and I take the appearance of a cat when mundanes are around.

Interviewer: Mundanes?

Fizzlewink: The non-magical. Plain, short-lived, unremarkable humans.

Interviewer: You seem jaded by humans, what is your history with them?

Fizzlewink: I have walked this Earth for centuries. In the times of magical recession, the time where the power force of magic–Emassa—was limited, I began serving as a muse to humans. Some humans were more intelligent than others, but in the end, it was me who did all the work through suggestion. Once magical energy began to flow again, I was able to seek out those with a gift and return to mentoring mages.

Interviewer: You say ‘mages’ why not witches?

Fizzlewink: I have history with many magical types, and witches I have trust issues with. It was the great witch of the Maya who created my kind, so I do owe her my existence. However, we were created to be used and lied to. Now that I have been in that witch’s presence again of late, she has done nothing to sway my opinion.

Interviewer: Well I suppose we can avoid that subject. What is the best thing that ever happened to you?

Fizzlewink: My family. I have a wonderful mate and three little kits. Kits are children to my people since we all take a form of cat as a guise, we also call our offspring kits, similar to kittens.

Interviewer: How sweet, and where are your family now?

Fizzlewink: Locked away in a time sealed spell. Another manipulation of that witch. I have to complete my work with her grandson and see an end to our current dilemma before I can be reunited.

Interviewer: What is this current dilemma?

Fizzlewink: A complete resurgence of all magical power focused on the boy Colby Stevens. He is some kind of fulcrum of power we have yet to understand, but his existence has brought about some strange events and changes to magic.

Interviewer: Colby, he is your student at present I understand. What has he done to magic?

Fizzlewink: Well he created a shortcut. He’s cheating magic by using his gizmos you modern-type call smart devices. He calls it Hashtag Magic, because he can type in spells with that funny symbol and his program makes the proper runes to enact the magic. It’s an embarrassment to the ancient magical community.

Interviewer: What is the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to you?

Fizzlewink: Ha. No magic involved in that. I have been watching over Colby since he was a child, and without his magic. The little monster just saw me as the family cat and one day covered me with glue and glitter. It happened so fast he may have actually tapped into magic, but I’m uncertain. What I do know is that I looked like a four-legged mobile disco ball for days until I got myself cleaned up.

Interviewer: Any final words of advice to those just learning their own magic?

Fizzlewink: No Shortcuts to magic. You need to learn from the basics and build a proper foundation because you can’t always depend on those shortcuts to get you out of sticky situations.

A Fellow author recently interviewed Me about one of my lesser known characters from Dark Fey, so I chose to share the Character spotlight in its entirety today. I hope you will enjoy learning about The Healer, who becomes one of the main characters throughout the pages of book two, Standing In Shadows.Continue reading →

My name is Jacky Dahlhaus and I live in the beautiful countryside of north-eastern Scotland. I was born in Australia and have lived in The Netherlands, England, and France before I called Scotland home. I love the change of seasons here, although I still don’t experience white Christmases.

I began writing in 2015. I dreamed about a girl bumping into a vampire and falling instantly in love. I told my dream to my children and they told me to write it down. I then didn’t leave my computer for a fortnight and wrote 55.000 words! ‘Living Like A Vampire’ is my first new adult novel, which was soon followed by ‘Raising A Vampire’ (which is under revision at the moment, but due to being republished in August). I decided to make it a trilogy, the Suckers Trilogy, and the third book, ‘Killing A Vampire,’ will be written soon. I hope to have it ready by Christmas. All three stories are set in Maine, US. I just love the countryside there and would love to visit it one day.

Morgan invited me to write a short story about characters of my books meeting up in a different setting. Although my books are the story of Kate, a young science teacher who gets wrapped up in an outbreak of a virus that makes people have vampire-like habits (and are hence called ‘suckers’), I chose to write my story about two supporting characters, Charlie and Sasha.

Charlie (who happens to be the spitting image of Peter Dinklage, aka Tyrion from Game of Thrones) used to be a silversmith before re-schooling to become an Arts teacher (that’s how he met Kate). In book 1, Sasha is introduced when she’s already a sucker, but before that she was a fashion model, trying to escape her past and suppressors. In this short story, Charlie meets Sasha at a fair before the virus outbreak, not knowing who the other person is and how much effect they will have on each other’s futures.

If you like to get to know what happens to Charlie and Sasha after the virus outbreak, you are invited to sign up for my newsletter at Jacky’s Website.

Charlie meets Sasha for the first time

Charlie climbed on his chair and faced the crowd. His dwarf-legs dangled behind the market stall’s black velvet tablecloth. He had just finished laying out his silver jewelry and waited for the people to come and inspect his handy work. And hopefully, buy some.

The morning was very slow. The rain helped little to tempt people to attend the open-air fair. By lunchtime though, the sun had come out and the number of fair-goers had grown. There was now an even stream of people passing the stalls. Charlie even had had some customers. The money he had earned so far would at least pay for the stall. Anything he sold from now on would mean he could buy himself dinner.

“Pjotr, look! Come have a look at this jewelry,” said a voice with a thick Russian accent.

Charlie turned to see who the voice belonged to and saw a tall, slim figure. The hair was dark and short, the face flawless. He couldn’t tell whether it was a man or a woman. There was no make-up, no curved chest to see through the long, black jacket, and the voice also didn’t give anything away toward the sex of the figure. It mystified Charlie and he couldn’t keep his eyes from the face. It wasn’t a particularly pretty face, yet it had something that caught your attention he couldn’t put his finger on.

“This is beautiful stuff!” the person exclaimed, eyeing Charlie’s rings, earrings, necklaces, and belly button studs which were aesthetically displayed on his table.

Charlie thought the voice too low to be female yet the facial features too feminine to be male.

The man called Pjotr, who was tall, heavy-set, and wore a thick overcoat, followed the tall figure. They both elbowed their way to the center of the stall, but instead of looking at Charlie’s jewelry, Pjotr kept his body turned sideways and looked around into the crowd. He gave the impression he was trying to find someone, he was on the lookout for danger, or he’d rather be somewhere else. Charlie couldn’t make up his mind which one of the three it was.

“Pjotr, just look. I’ve got to try some of these on.”

The figure took three necklaces from the table. As Pjotr turned his head to look at the necklaces, Charlie saw a tattoo of a spider’s web sticking out from the man’s collar. A spider was trying to walk off the web into the man’s ear. Charlie now looked eagle-eyed at the two of them for any signs they were going to run off with his goods. You just never knew with customers these days. When Pjotr helped to put one of the necklaces around the figure’s neck, Charlie threw a quick glance sideways to the woman manning the stall next to him, pointing two fingers to the floor with his hand close to his side. The longhaired woman, Sylvia, sold leather ware and was a friend of Charlie. They often met at fairs selling their wares and, as they got along well, often organized to have their stalls next to each other. They would cover the other’s stall when the other had to go get lunch, use the toilet, or chase thieves. Sylvia nodded almost imperceptibly at Charlie.

“Do you have a mirror?” the figure asked.

“Sure,” said Charlie, and pointed at the hand mirror lying at the far corner of the table. The figure leaned over in front of other customers and grabbed the mirror. The arm stretching out from the sleeve was thin, almost underfed, and had dark, circular scars.

The figure admired the mirror image. “This would go well with the Fiorucci dress, don’t you think?” she said.

Charlie had figured it out. She was a fashion model. Hence the skinniness and the vague signs of femininity. He wondered who gave her the cigarette burns and how she covered them up during a show. The woman held the other ones up to admire in the mirror as well.

Charlie studied Pjotr for his reaction to the woman’s cries of ecstasy about the necklaces.The man didn’t seem to care less.

“You have a cigarette?” Charlie asked Pjotr.

The large man looked down upon the small man behind the table. Charlie didn’t waver his stare into the cold eyes of Pjotr.

“Sure do,” Pjotr said after a while and produced a packet of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his coat. Charlie wasn’t surprised Pjotr also had a thick Russian accent. He also didn’t fail to notice the holster stuck under the man’s armpit. “You need a light?” Pjotr asked.

Charlie patted his pocket. “Not in the presence of a customer,” he answered.

Pjotr shrugged and turned around again, as uninterested in the whole scene as before.

Charlie turned his attention back to the woman. “Which one are you going to buy?”

“I don’t know, they’re all so pretty,” she said. “I can’t make up my mind.”

Charlie smelled opportunity now. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “You can have all three for the price of two.” He smiled an extra wide smile. ‘Better a small profit than no profit at all,’ he thought.

Charlie’s smile had been genuine. He felt sorry for the woman. She was being treated very badly by somebody. He wanted to show her that not all men were animals.

“Are you sure? That is wonderful! Thank you so very much!” the woman said. There was a smile on her face that not quite reached her eyes. She grabbed Pjotr’s hand and almost threw the two necklaces in it. “Pay him,” she said and walked off.

Without further ado, Pjotr took a wallet from his inside pocket and paid Charlie for the necklaces.

Charlie’s mouth had dropped open and was still open as he watched Pjotr follow the woman like a dog. How could he have been so wrong? He closed his mouth, squinted his eyes, and thought of another scenario. One that was much worse. He took out the cigarette from his pocket and crushed it. He let the remains fall on the ground and wiped his hand clean on his trousers. He had never smoked and wasn’t going to start now. ‘At least there’s one cigarette less to torture you with on command of your master,’ Charlie thought as he saw the woman disappear into the crowd.

If you would like to be notified when my next book is published or to be the first to hear about special giveaways, please subscribe to my newsletterSuckers Trilogy (if you click on the following link: you get to the form). I won’t send you any spam or anything other than news about my books. Thanks for your interest and I hope you have a nice day!

His thoughts filled with violence as the frenzy of bloodlust took hold of the Eternal and, when he bared his teeth at the Fey, Gairynzvl understood clearly just what purpose his glinting fangs served. Rather than back away in fear, however; he flexed his powerful wings with equal aggression and delved deeper, listening to the thoughts that filled Jean’s mind even as he rushed forward and grasped the Fey by his neck. Glaring back at the Eternal with every measure of composure he could manage, Gairynzvl took Jean by both arms with an iron-like clasp and beat his wings forcefully. Rising up from the ground at a daunting rate of speed was unexpected enough to redirect his attention and Jean paused to look down at the receding rooftop with an evident combination of astonishment and respect for the Fey’s countermove.

“Kill me and you may not live to regret it.” Gairynzvl hissed viperously as they ascended, continuing hastily before his quick-witted adversary had time to interject some acerbic reply. “But before you rip my throat out, will you allow me to pose one final question?” Jean’s black eyes locked with lavender-ice and he growled ferociously in return.

“It’s not like I have a lot of choice.” The Fey smiled with vexing charm, halting their upward climb and turning them in a slow circle before beginning to descend. Jean could not silence himself.

“If you wanted to dance, I could have asked the orchestra to play some Strauss.” Thirty feet from the rooftop, Gairynzvl inclined his head with exaggerated courtesy and let go of Jean’s arms. He plummeted to the ground amid the fluttering black of his coat, looking every bit the dark raven he was, and landed with surprising agility, neither falling nor staggering. Regaining his orientation, he glared viciously upward at the descending Fey, the red mists rushing over him, but Jean could not stop himself from laughing. Alighting several feet from the unpredictable Eternal, Gairynzvl watched his amusement cautiously, probing further into his thoughts in spite of polite decorum.

“If your existence here is as abhorrent to you as you claim, what have you to lose? The Light of Jyndari may not be fatal to you.” Recovering from his atypical display of mirth, Jean drew a deep breath and stalked closer.

“Light is light and I don’t fancy incinerating myself on a whim.” Gairynzvl shook his head.

“That is like saying blood is blood, but even now I can hear you debating whether or not my blood will satisfy you.” The revelation that he could read his thoughts rekindled the flame of his anger, causing the Eternal to move within inches of the brazen Fey with another growl.

“And just how might you know what I am debating?”

“We all have our gifts.”

“You may not want to read my mind. It just might make me angry.” Gairynzvl smirked with understanding; for the moment they enjoyed a truce and it was all he required.

“I do not know much about your realm, but you do. You know enough, at least, to wonder if my blood will satisfy you as a human’s might, which is vastly different than pigs blood or that of the wolf. I only suggest that Light is no different. Your body knows only the light of your realm; the Light of Jyndari is an unrecognized source of energy and may not be lethal.” Jean could not dispute the Fey’s logic, but sneered all the same.

“Yet if it is, I will not live long enough to say I told you so.”

“As I am not from this place, my blood may be equally as deadly; yet it is a risk you seem eager to take.” Considering the Fey’s argument pensively, his silence provided Gairynzvl a final opportunity, not only to save his own life, but to perhaps change the Eternals as well.

“If you are able to cross and stand beneath the radiance of our Light, will it not give you what you seek most; to breathe life and liberty without the compulsion for violence that you claim to detest? To gain some measure of purpose through the freedom of choice to live as you wish, rather than as you are forced?” The intensity of Jean’s glare pierced the Fey. He was certain he was right, but everything he knew was violence. How would he change that? It was a question he did not need to ask.

“I once lived a life of violence much as you do, but the Light of Jyndari changed me, allowed me to Prevail over the darkness and find a purpose for my life. It can do the same for you.”

“Is having a purpose so important?”

“You seem to believe so.” Jeans glare darkened.

“I asked you not to do that.” Once again, the Fey smiled with annoying charisma. Turning to gesture at the slowly undulating darkness of the portal, he questioned without speaking; yet Jean knew precisely what he was not saying. Looking round him at the garish glamour of the Rhineland and his, as yet, unconscious sometimes-friend, he took a hesitant step forward. If the Fey was right, then what he offered was as irresistible to the Eternal as blood itself, but the realization sent a myriad other questions tumbling through his mind. What would he do in this new realm and what would he consume if their blood was poisonous?

Gairynzvl reached outward toward the portal and spoke the dark words of Dlalth required to reverse its path, turning back to gaze at Jean with a wry smile even as he indicated that he should step through its dark surface.

“All very good questions, but you have time to debate them later.” Stopping beside the Fey, the dark raven reached out and laid his hand on his throat.

“If I have time to debate them, I may also have time for lunch.”

The portal opened, darkness pulling on darkness and Jean could not keep his feet from moving forward into the spiraling blackness. Letting go of the Fey, he stepped inward, hesitation and uncertainty filling every fiber of his being, but there was no turning back and what did he have, after all, to turn back for? The slurking pitch was utterly disorientating, but, in spite of not knowing which way was up or back, he took another step and felt the unexpected plush of undergrowth beneath his boots.

Light poured into the portal with terrifying velocity and the Eternal, born to death and darkness, stepped out into a brilliant glimmering of sunlight, which streamed through emeraldine branches. Warmth surrounded him for the first time in his life and the unexpected sensation made him squeeze his eyes closed in horror, certain it was the beginning of the end for him, but nothing happened. Birdsong filled the air more sweet than any concerto or symphony he had ever heard and the blush of the Light of Jyndari made him sigh profoundly. The rush of red mists that ever swirled in the depths of his being began to dissipate and the gnawing hunger he had always known was inexplicably quelled. Opening his eyes, he stared upward at the green canopy of a forest so beautiful he could not combat the tears that sprang from somewhere deep within him. Turning, he watched Gairynzvl step out of the portal, an insolent smirk upon his face, but the rush of anger he had always fought no longer compelled him to violence. Still, he had not changed all that much.

“You don’t live in these trees do you?” Gairynzvl pretended to laugh with marked sarcasm and pointed into the distance where the Eternal, whose vision remained as remarkable as ever, could see a village with clusters of quaint cottages and buildings nestled into the woodland.

“Lunch is at the tavern.”

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~A Collaboration by Morgan and Richard M. Ankers. Richard’s contributions are highlighted for you in italics to set his writing apart from my own. We hope you will enjoyed this collaboration and debut of Character Interactions.

If you find the notion intriguing and would like to set your own characters in some new and entirely different situation, drop me a line or a comment to discuss the possibilities 🙂

“Purpose! I have no purpose, unless it is killing time in awaiting the end? Being alone?

“You’ll always have me,” whimpered the man on the floor. “Always.” Jean silenced him with a kick.

“Must you feel the need to demonstrate your superiority in such ways?” Gairynzvl had never once looked away, his stare continuing to break down any barriers between the two.

Jean sighed, as the Fey shook his imposing wings and cracked his neck.

“All I wish for is peace and quiet. Unfortunately, violence is often the only way to secure it. Especially where Sir Walter Merryweather is concerned,” Jean added.

Gairynzvl glanced at the comatose form on the rooftop, then back to Jean. He appraised the brooding form before him and struck upon a revelation. “You do not desire death; you feel it imposed upon you.”

“Perhaps.”

“And you brood in the darkness because you cannot smile in the light. I do not know your kind completely, not yet, but I sense this true.”

“You see much, winged one.”

“I prefer Gairynzvl.”

“We all prefer something.”

Gairynzvl took a long, deep breath, eyes narrowing, and sniffed. “If light is all you wish for, then it is a gift I may bestow.”

“What?”

“I am Fey, and as such may open portals to worlds other than your own, as you have borne witness to. I can give you light, Jean. And I will if you wish it.”

“I could not stand before it.”

“Not all light is the same.”

The raven of a man staggered backwards. If he had sought to impose himself upon the Fey in a brash display of strength, his actions dismissed that persona. Gairynzvl had offered him the one thing that nobody else ever had or could. Yet Jean remained Eternal, descended of the vampires of old, and the promise of that which he imagined a lie tore at him. The Eternal grew troubled, the red mists falling, clouding his vision, his judgment, his sanity.

Gairynzvl readied himself.

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~A Collaboration by Morgan and Richard M. Ankers. Richard’s contributions are highlighted for you in italics to set his writing apart from my own. We hope you will enjoy this collaboration and debut of Character Interactions. Be sure to stop back for the finale tomorrow 🙂

Gairynzvl did not need to be empathic to understand the man facing him was dangerous and he did not need to delve telepathically to know that one wrong word or movement on his part and he could be facing oblivion. It was not a prospect he fancied, so when his lavender-ice stare met the brooding black glare of the stranger’s he lowered his expansive wings in an instinctual indication of deference. The man bore no weapon, but upon closer examination, he realized the dark raven needed none. Glinting from his sardonic grin, twin fangs as foreboding as any wolves warned the Fey of his lethal capacity; thus he stood silently to choose his words wisely before speaking.

“It was not my purpose to cross to wherever this is,” he offered as diplomatically as he might contrive to sound, glancing round him with undeniable curiosity; “any more than it is my intention to interrupt you.”

“It would only have been an interruption if he’d got away.”

Gairynzvl grinned at that, a swift gesture that drew a matching response. “My name is Gairynzvl,” said the Fey offering his hand. “Might I ask where I am?”

“Jean,” replied the man in black, dropping his victim to the graveled rooftop. “And I often ask myself that very same thing.”

The brooding fellow stalked forward, threw his coattails to one side and took the Fey’s hand. Their handshake was swift, but genuine.

The place was not unpleasant, but neither did it overly appeal. Gairynzvl’s eyes swept the night allowing Jean the freedom to appraise him. Though his wings were distinctly peculiar, his powerful physique suggested, if put to it, he would be a formidable opponent.

“Why does the water run red?” the Fey inquired, his feathers rustling in the breeze.

“Because it’s blood.”

“Blood, you say. Hm, this is indeed a strange and wonderful place.”

“If by strange and wonderful, you mean bordering on dead, then yes.”

“First impressions would suggest this a world not bordering on death but of death, albeit a luxurious one.”

“You should never read too much into first impressions, otherwise I’d be offering you bird seed.”

Gairynzvl did not rise to the bait; Jean’s smirk suggested he was impressed.

The two stood together in silent contemplation, gazing out across the Rhineland as though friends for centuries. But Jean could no more hide his bitterness towards life from Gairynzvl than he could the moon from the sky; such were the Fey’s gifts. Hence, the advantage lay with the newcomer.

Twisting round to gaze at the man who lay unconscious where Jean had dropped him, the Fey could not silence the query that escaped him in a markedly sarcastic tone.

“Friend of yours?”

“On occasion.” Jean’s terse reply warned him to go no further down that path. Scoffing with a grin, Gairynzvl returned the banter of the raven glaring at him speculatively.

“Then, although I may not be here long, I shall endeavor to not make you my friend.”

“That would be wise.” The blunt honesty of his deprecating remark mirrored the flood of anger and resentment that rushed from Jean so forcefully the insightful Fey could scarce defend himself from it. The sensation was one the former Legionnaire was all too familiar with and he frowned upon recognizing the other’s pain, but knew better than to remark on it unless he wished to learn, first hand, just what function his fangs performed.

“Where are you going?”

“The Uunglarda.” Jean shook his head.

“Never heard of it. Beyond the borders of New Europa, is it?” Gairynzvl shook his head, gesturing at the darkness from which he had stepped and Jean noticed, for the first time, how in that spot the shadows wavered and warped like the despoiled waters of the Danube below.

“Beyond this realm, although it, too, is a place of darkness and death, unlike my own realm of Light, life and purpose.” Jean sneered.

“Something some of us will never know.” Gairynzvl’s lavender-ice stare captured Jean’s, piercing him to his core.

“Your lifeforce is certainly unusual, but it is as potent as my own and I suspect your purpose is no different.”

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~A Collaboration by Morgan and Richard M. Ankers. Richard’s contributions are highlighted for you in italics to set his writing apart from my own. We hope you will enjoy this collaboration and debut of Character Interactions. Be sure to stop back / watch for upcoming installments.

Welcome to the debut of Character Interactions! In this first installment, you will find a unique interaction between Richard M. Anker’s lead character, the Eternal Lord, Jeanand the lead character of my own Dark Fey Trilogy, Prevailed Fey of the Light, Gairynzvl. Richard’s contributions are highlighted for you in italics to set his writing apart from my own. We hope you will enjoy this collaboration and debut of Character Interactions. Be sure to stop back / watch for upcoming installments.

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Opening portals into other realms was just one of Gairynzvl’s many gifts. As a Fey of the Light he was born telepathic as well as partially empathic, which allowed him to read the thoughts of another without difficulty. He could also sense the stronger emotions of others, though he had been taught from a young age not to delve without permission. During the years he spent among the Reviled, he had also been taught the unique skill of opening portals; which the Dlalth exploited to their own dark purposes; yet it was a gift he was thankful for, nevertheless.

Standing before the mirror he intended to utilize to pass into that dark realm, he stretched out his hands and spoke the incantation to prepare the glass for crossing; the guttural Dlalth words he spoke causing the reflective pane to ripple like the waters of a disturbed pond. His deep voice pressed into its surface, penetrating the darkly silver abyss, opening it into the beyond, and the shadows that swirled and heavy darkness that reached through the void pulled at him, compelling him inward. Grasping the sword he wore sheathed at his side and folding his expansive wings tightly, he stepped forward into the slurking emptiness, pushing his way through the murky nothingness of the portal outward into the waiting domain on the other side, but it was a domain he could never have anticipated.

The darkness, tinged with the silver of an unrecognized moon, illuminated a rooftop, one Gairynzvl teetered on, in full view of a river awash in dark crimson. This was not the world the Fey intended, a different night, a different place, but, still, it intrigued. He flexed his wings, their beating stirring up an overbearing pomade of some strange flower, both unknown and unwanted. There appeared to be music playing from down below and a casual glance over a steep drop revealed the flickering light of myriad candles, an overly bright accompaniment to the internal merriment. All very strange. All very new.

Gairyznvl prepared to make the leap to a broad balcony below, when distracted by a grunt and the crunching as of gravel to his back, he paused. With a curse of frustration at having been the observed and not the observer, the Fey spun about-face. There before him locked in a one-sided struggle were two men. One, a dark raven of a man, appeared to be throttling the life out of a rather gaudily attired other, who hung from the first’s grip, his shock of messy blond hair waggling back and forth across his face. The throttled man, seeing Gairyznvl, attempted a cheery wave before an involuntary last shake silenced him, possibly for good, and the man in black turned to face his witness. The fire in his eyes suggested he was not best pleased. He was not best pleased at all.

I wanted to take a moment to say Thank You, Truly, Thank You from my Heart

This is not a post about me blowing my own horn or singing my own accolades, I promise. It’s me taking the very Important time to Realize and Appreciate all the blessings that have come my way in just one year.

A month or so back I posted an invitation to vote for Dark Fey The Reviled, which was up for commendation through Golden Box Books Publishing Reader’s Choice Award. Yesterday I was excited and thoroughly delighted to learn that, with YOUR help and Kind votes, The Reviled received that award and has been advanced to the finalist stage.

This award has truly made me Pause to take stock of all that has happened in this past year. So often Blessings come along and we take them for granted, as well as those persons who helped make them possible. So I wanted to take this opportunity to Thank YOU, as well as the Source of All Blessings, for every Amazing and Joyfully tearful moment I have enjoyed this year.

In March my life-long Dream of being published came true when I was accepted by Creativia Publications. Both book covers got a facelift and throughout the year sales have increased beyond my expectations.

To say that I am Thankful, Grateful, Appreciative and Overwhelmed would be an understatement proportionate to saying the Antarctic is a tropical climate, but not taking time to SAY Thank You would be even more grievous, at least in my book(nvolume).

.

~Morgan~

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Attn: Artists & Photographers

BnV is a visual & lyrical blog which makes use of many sources of media to enhance the words I write.
All artwork and photography displayed on this blog is diligently credited to the Original Artist or Photographer, whenever possible. IF you discover one of your images without appropriate credit acknowledgment PLEASE feel free to contact me via my contact page info so I may update the post with your name & website info OR, if you require it, remove the image.
Thank You for Sharing your Talent with BnV.

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